Four years ago, world-famous evangelist Nick Vujicic came to Utah. It was a big event. Nick, an evangelical, met with Mormon leaders to discuss faith and even spent a night speaking in the tabernacle. He also visited numerous Utah middle and high schools while simulcasting with about 200 others, speaking against bullying and suicide and inspiring students to choose life.
My school (Skyline High School) decided not to join the simulcast. Hindsight is 20/20. How could they know?
18 months later, I remember exactly where I was. It was second period on a B day; I was sitting in the third row in AP Environmental Science. The principal came over the speaker announcing that a fellow senior was dead. It was a suicide. I heard his best friend run past our room weeping. The class froze; the bell rang; we hollowly sauntered to lunch. Various students of faith offered up prayers, but we got the feeling it was too late. Snap your fingers, and he’s gone. But we couldn’t snap out of it.
Choosing what I am most proud of about my high school is easy. At Devin Wolfe’s funeral, his Young Life leader remarked, “I love you Devin, but I hate your decision.” My senior class wore this motto with conviction.
The next day everyone wore red – it was Devin’s favorite color. He was a tremendous musician and artist. Stickers of some of his art circulated around the school on the backs of phone cases or textbook covers. And while we remembered and missed Devin, we did not condone his act. No one else copy-catted – we made that unacceptable. The day after the news broke, we walked into school to find taped on every single locker a simple note: “You Are Loved.” No one ever learned who put those notes up, but whoever did is a hero.
My AP English teacher keeps her note on the front of her podium. Even when I visited a year after graduation, it was still there. It is a daily reminder: we matter, we are loved. I wonder if Andrew Garcia didn’t see the note.
Last week, Andrew Garcia, an exceptional soccer player and student of Skyline High School, committed suicide. It was the same story: talented student, same school, suicide. Does the school’s decision to skip Vujicic’s simulcast four years ago still plague it? Did the senior class’s resilience from two years ago even leave an impact?
One mustn’t ask these questions. The answers don’t exist. But one must arise and face the day. That is hard. And so to any students at my alma mater: I know where you are at. I know it’s heart-wrenching and seems impossible to move on. But I believe in you, and I am praying for you.
You are loved.
Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art…
Heart of my own heart whatever befall
Still be my vision O Ruler of all
